


And the days go by

by ArbitraryRambunctious (SheepOutTetradecagon)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Original Work
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Reflection, some thoughts about patriotism and immigration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 10:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8098474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheepOutTetradecagon/pseuds/ArbitraryRambunctious
Summary: It is 2016, and Norway has a lot of thoughts
An extended modified version of a short story I wrote for a school assignment.





	

It was as if a sigh went through the country when yet another storm crashed against the Norwegian coast, wind and rain in a brutal fight across the outstretched landmasses. People were safe inside isolated houses, built specifically to stand up against this kind of weather, while tv-screens lit up rooms in the restless night. If anyone had been outside, they might have be able to see a shape that moved along the sharp jutting cliffs that stretched out towards the sea. However, there was no one who dared set a foot outside, so the figure remained undisturbed.  

The silhouette stopped and studied the masses of water and thought to himself that he wished that he was situated further south. A shiver went through him as he caught himself thinking this and shook it off. The south was full of noisy bastards anyway, and wasn’t cold nights and restless autumn storms also a part of his identity? The wind seemed to like this thought, for it took hold of him and threw him to the ground with a hoarse laughter. Norway didn’t hold anything against the wind, as it was an old friend that had helped him several times. While fondly remembering days spent at sea with wind in his sails and the ocean spray caressing his face, he got to his feet and continued walking.

It took another hour before Norway saw the light of a town, even if he had been able to feel the warmth of every lit fireplace and basked in the glow of every lamp in the land. Despite the weather, he felt an odd sense of calm within himself, a calm that had not been there a few hundred years earlier. It was something about electricity and newly built houses that made the storm almost unnoticeable. He could remember nights spent around dying bonfires as the rain were doing its best to make him and his friends sick. Cold evenings where he would huddle up in thin blankets as snow found its way into the cracks of his broken house. He revelled in the fact that it wasn’t like that anymore. Still, didn’t keep his mind from noticing the thoughts of a minority of poor wet people as he slowly but steady moved towards the lights of the closest city.

At long last, he found an inn that was situated by the docks. It was easy to find a table by the window so that he could watch the natural forces do their deed across the coast. The dim light and the radio playing a well-known melody reminded him of similar evenings spent behind an old table while rowdy sailors merrily clinked their tankards together. With a sigh, he started to think about what made his home so special. What made it possible for _him_ to exist? Surely, he definitely had it better now, but he couldn’t deny that he missed the almost intoxicating feeling of people that worshipped him. The feeling of words crafted into homages for him and what he stood for. The surge of power as he cut his ties with Denmark, and the relief of being free from Sweden. Even if similar feelings reached the surface sometimes, that patriotism was far from as tangible as it had once been.

People changes with time. Never had Norway had it better, never had he felt so divided. Maybe it was his own fault. Hadn’t it always kept to himself, safe in his home, far away from everyone else? Hadn’t he turned away from his friends in the south, passively regarding them as the strived for riches, while he himself was happy as long as his population survived. He had only been a young child when the other Europeans had their days of glory. A fierce and fearsome child, but nonetheless a child. How it all had changed. There wasn’t any opportunity to stay disconnected from the rest of the world anymore, not now that the world was only an internet connection away. Maybe he wasn’t ready to invite others into his home just yet. He fumbled absentmindedly with its glass in frustration.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want people to come, even if a small part of him felt both fear and disgust for the unknown. The growing commotions further south had him worried around the clock, and he was still not sure how to handle the increasing mount of refugees crossing his borders. He struggled to understand his new ones, and despaired over them not trying to understand him all the time. Didn’t they think anything of him, and everything he had fought for? Didn’t they like it at his place? Didn’t he do enough in order to make them feel at home?

Even his own, was slowly starting to turn away from him, and what he had once been. Nowadays he was just as much a farmer in a nice bunad as a man in a fancy suit in the big city. He was like a myth, and the young, they wanted to leave. Away from anonymity and a peaceful life where local paper headlines rarely covered anything bigger than an occasional scandal. He thought of a time where most people who travelled out of his house came back. To a time where success was brought home rather than being enjoyed at a 5-star hotel in some big faraway city with a fancy name.

In a moment, he wondered how he looked from an outsider’s perspective. What was it that his new inhabitants saw when they entered his home, suitcases full with experiences and memories they’d rather forget? Cultural differences often ended up in Norway hearing that he was cold and rude, and rarely involved in anything big. He was present, but often overlooked in favour of bigger and louder countries. Even when he did get some attention, he was soon forgotten again. Was this what some his new inhabitants felt? Did they feel that since they already had a clear picture of its people, there was no need to get to know them for real? 

Being caught in a time where borders meant less and less every day, and in which what used to be irreconcilable cultures now walked hand in hand, he felt a little lost. Sighing, he calmly thought to himself that in the end, he was just the sum of everyone who lived under his roof, and that maybe it was just as important that people understood what he was before as what he was now.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you had fun reading this!  
> This is a translated version of my text so please tell me if there's anything that doesn't make sense.
> 
> Come say hi to me at tumblr:  
> [Sheepouttetradecagon.tumblr.com](https://sheepouttetradecagon.tumblr.com/)


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